A Mother’s Day lament

Whose bright idea was it to place the Minnesota fishing opener on Mother’s Day weekend? I long for a lovingly prepared breakfast in bed, leisurely late church service, followed by a sumptuous 20-foot-long buffet enjoyed along with my adoring family.

Instead, I get a cold bed because Jack went fishing at three a.m. Breakfast is dry toast lovingly prepared by our kids, whom I have to hustle to church solo, while mediating the bickering over who gets to sit in the front seat (which in the era of air bags may not be such a prime location). My buffet consists of cheese and macaroni. When Jack’s gone, I don’t have to cook.

Some think Mother’s Day is just another opportunity for Hallmark to rake in the cash for sappy sentimental cards. Jack takes this view: “You’re not my mother. Why do I have to get you a card?” Perhaps to set a good example for our Jack Pine Savage saplings? Nonetheless, I am still expected to buy his mother a card.

I’d like to meet the bureaucrat in the upper echelons of the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources who thought he’d placate Minnesota mothers by tossing them a freebie. (Normally I’m a sucker for anything I don’t have to pay for — not this time.) “I know,” he said. “We’ll still put fishing opener on Mother’s Day weekend, but we’ll let all the little mothers fish free on Mother’s Day.” I wonder if his own mother is still speaking to him?

I’m sorry, but that’s like playing a carnival game and winning the cracked plastic bird whistle from under the counter, when you had your heart set on the five-foot, pink, stuffed panda hanging from the marquee.

Aren’t we worth the panda? Is one day of unadulterated worship too much to ask? Mothers are more than women who give birth to progeny. We’re the chief cooks and bottle-washers, the ones who stock up on toothpaste and toilet paper — and most importantly, the finders of things invisible to any naked eye but our own.

I wish video technology had been invented when Jack and I got married. I’d play the vows backwards to discover the hidden message where I’d promised to love, honor and be “The Keeper of the Stuff.”

There is one person in every household who always knows where an item can be found on any given day. Nine times out of 10, it’s the mother. I’m not a neatnik with a blueprint for a brain, but I either know exactly where to find the warranty for the bug-zapper we bought five years ago, or I can tell you two alternate locations, one of which is sure to be paydirt.

“Where are my keys?” Jack hollers 30 seconds before going out the door.

“Where did you put them?” I reply in auto-replay mode. Does he think I take pleasure in hiding his stuff? Is there a sadistic joy in knowing he is totally dependent on my producing the keys so he won’t be late for work?

His voice rises to a frenzied pitch: “They’re not there.” I wearily walk over to the counter, move aside one of the scraps of paper that he’d deposited along with his keys, and voila, there they are.

“Just because they didn’t pop out and say ‘Here I am,’” I mutter, as he scoops them up and dashes out the door.

This pattern repeats itself with clothes on his side of the closet, “Where’s my plaid shirt?” and condiments in the refrigerator, “Have you seen the barbecue sauce?” My personal favorite is, “Who hid the TV remote?” (I did, of course. When my last afternoon soap opera was over, I shoved it into the bon-bon box and slid it under the couch.)

Being a fishing wife is trial enough. Don’t expect me to fish. I’m still trying to calculate how long I have to keep the leeches in the back of the refrigerator before I can justify throwing them out. Like leftovers, they’re never used again. They just take up valuable shelf space as they slowly grow fuzzy little sweaters.

Maybe this May, when the ice goes off the lake and his thoughts turn to jigs and lures, I can finally turn the whole situation to my advantage.

“Jackie, have you seen my tackle box?”

“Tackle box? Gee, dear, I don’t know. Where did you put it?”

— Jodi Schwen

Jodi Schwen’s humorous essays, Northern Comfort: The Musings of Jacqueline Pine Savage, have been published in Minnesota’s Lake Country Journal, where she has been editor since 1999. Her credits include Guideposts and Minnesota Monthly magazine. She has written dramas and monologues, and presented workshops on journaling, creativity and “how to freelance.” In her “spare time,” she enjoys being an adjunct communications professor. Schwen once had a child in toilet training and one in driver’s training at the same time. Spare time? What’s that? Read her blog, “Northern Comfort,” here.

Erma says

“Do you know what depression is? It's sitting in your doctor's examination room. In a paper dress. On a cold table. And it's the high spot of your week.”
(from "Dumpy Paper Dress--March 31, 1977," which appears in Forever Erma)

Who's publishing what?

Musings

Kaye Curren has written her first book, Memories A La Carte, Essays on a Life. In these selected humorous and heartfelt essays, Ms. Curren relates what it’s been like to be a woman living, growing and surviving in America in the latter half of the twentieth century and beyond. From childhood in sunny California to retirement in snowy Michigan, Ms. Curren has survived depression, divorce, failed opportunities and financial insecurity — and has lived to laugh about them. She delights in writing humor essays, human interest stories and memoir. Find her many musings on her website/blog at http://www.writethatthang.com.

Perfect lipstick

Diane Pascoe has published a collection of hilarious personal essays, Life Isn’t Perfect, But My Lipstick Is: Real Life. Real Laughs. Her funny memoir “collects the mental musings of a wife, mother, and (sometimes) gracefully aging woman.” She lives in North Carolina with her husband, Eric (also known in these stories as “Honey” and “Love God”) and their two dogs.

Idaho potatoes

Bestselling author Elaine Ambrose offers two new children’s books featuring Idaho potatoes, creative stories, and vibrant illustrations. Gators & Taters features seven original stories with four in prose and three in metered rhyming poetry. The book is one of 50 children’s books selected for Bowker’s National Recommended Reading list. The Magic Potato is a creative, educational, bilingual story book that was approved by the Idaho State Board of Education for the statewide curriculum. The read-out-loud story describes in English and Spanish the adventures of children who ride around Idaho on a magic flying potato.